


Rebel Yell

by Ger0nim0



Series: The Anomaly Man Chronicles [13]
Category: 6 Underground (2019), Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Helluva Boss (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:33:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ger0nim0/pseuds/Ger0nim0
Summary: There are standards. Every country has standards. But when those standard are taken away "for the good of the nation", then everyone is unhappy.The old team was wiped out, with only One as the sole survivor. But he believes he could pull something off, despite his age. It is no surprise that he would give sufficient funds to the New California government to create a team that do what is right and are not afraid to get their hands dirty.Time to take down the American regime.
Series: The Anomaly Man Chronicles [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1532849





	Rebel Yell

New California Republic border checkpoint

January 20, 2052

1:08 PM

A line of cars were leaving the United States and headed towards the recently made nation of the New California Republic. As they approached the barrier, they could slowly see, in detail, the California Wall. Similar the original Berlin Wall, the border was lined with a wall of reinforced concrete and barbed wire, thousands of miles long. In addition to that, there were gates at each road that led to the independent nation. At each gate were outposts with armed guards, some were human while other weren’t. And to add the differences between California and the US, the US gates were a less secure version of the ones at the US-Mexican border. The Californians thought, at first, that the Americans were either vacationers or immigrants. Then they realized the unusually long lines that approached the Wall on all of the roads to California. Something odd was going on.

At one of the gates on Interstate 80, on the California side, was a winged cat Demon wearing the uniform cap of the New California Border and Immigration Control instead of his usual top hat. An old Winnebago, pulling a Suzuki Samurai, pulls up to the gate, where he was stationed at. He approaches the vehicle with a few others carrying detection equipment with them. He began his list of what to say and ask as his co-workers searched the RV.

“Papers, please,” he grumbled, keeping an eye on the driver and his passengers, three young women and an elderly man, in the RV. If Vietnam had taught him anything, it was not to trust anyone, not even ones with a smiling face. He could feel the tenseness in the atmosphere, even from the cars behind the RV.

The driver, a man in his 40s with short graying hair and circular glasses, looked especially tense. He handed him his traveling documents before getting a good look at the immigration officer.

“What the…?” he said before looking further down at the officer’s name tag. “’ _Husk_ ’? That’s your name?”

Husk ignored him and took the documents. He scanned them and looked over the computer. Already, there was a discrepancy on the driver’s age. Richardson, Gerome Harold. Age: **_74_**.

“Okay then…” Husk kept looking through the documents until he found his medical records clarifying his condition. “’Black Blood’? Ugh, what-the-fuck-ever…” He looked through more documents until he found that they all checked out.

He walked with the documents in hand and handed them back to the driver, Richardson. “How long will you be staying?”

“My passengers and I want to immigrate here.”

“For what reason?”

The elderly man got off his seat and poked his head through the window. “Now listen to me,” he glared down the veteran, “our country has now officially been fucked over by some socialist assholes who are changing the rules of America as we speak. WE came here as refugees.”

“And who are you suppose to be?”

“I’m no one,” was the old man’s answer. “I’m a Ghost.”


End file.
